


What Happens in the Dark

by M_E_Lover



Category: Evil (tv), Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Dream Sex, M/M, Occult practices, Pining, Satanism, Set in the Library cuz I like it better, Sexual Content, Supernatural Elements, Townsend is a very bad man, Voodoo, black magic, not sure how else to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2020-12-21 06:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21070373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_E_Lover/pseuds/M_E_Lover
Summary: John has a bad dream... or is it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First EVIL fic. It might help to have an idea of what Michael Emerson's new character is like on the show but may not really be necessary. Suffice it to say that Leland Townsend is the total opposite of Harold Finch, he's a very bad man and very likely a demon in disguise.
> 
> Thank you as always to oddgit, I couldn't do it without you my friend!
> 
> Comments are welcomed and appreciated.

He woke up instinctively. Something telling him that he was no longer alone in the loft when he heard a soft, indistinct whisper, just a ghost of a sound that made his senses prickle.

Was he dreaming? He opened his eyes and blinked up at the ceiling, his sight adjusting to the dimness of the room when a man’s voice broke through any lingering ambiguity in his head, _“You know what I like about sex?”_ the masculine and oddly familiar voice asked out of the blue, startling John into full alert. 

He reined in his impulse to react. Something was wrong he could feel it, so he didn’t respond, didn’t move, pretended he didn’t hear the evocative question.

The entity posing as Harold Finch knew full well that he was being heard and continued to taunt John, unfazed, _“That moment you see in their eyes that they want you…” _The strange man continued with a delighted lilt to his voice, _“Harold wants you, ya know.”_

John took a deep breath, trying with all of his might to ignore the voice that sounded so much like his partner’s. 

_“Or are you content being in denial? Don’t deprive yourself, John. Why turn a blind eye to the obvious?” _he goaded him drolly. _“You don’t have to… Harold wants you too, murderous past and all.” _It was almost impossible not to envision Harold himself saying the words he longed to hear, impossible not to envision his beloved face behind them.

_“I’ll tell you what.”_ John heard the man moving closer. He couldn’t stop himself from looking up at him as he stopped next to the bed. _“How about I give you a sampling of what you’re missing out on?” _John couldn’t move as the being sat beside him and slipped his hand under the sheets.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore his body’s natural response to being fondled, tried to dash all thoughts of Harold and what he wanted from him out of his mind. _“See, I knew you’d like it…”_ John couldn’t move…why couldn’t he move? “_Just give yourself over, John… let yourself enjoy Harold taking care of you.” _

Then suddenly he felt Harold’s hot mouth on him, pleasuring him just as he’d always imagined he would. It was so, so good and he was so hard now he could hardly stand it. He was panting from the sensation of being sucked off with such proficiency, but this was wrong, even if it weren’t really happening, it was wrong… and _‘why couldn’t he move?’ _

He was close to coming as his traitorous body was being made to feel things he’d only ever dreamed of with his partner when the apparition pulled away.

John swallowed thickly, forcing himself to calm down, and could only manage to murmur one word, “Why?”

_“Why?”_ The man that wasn’t Harold answered amused and went back to jerking him off deftly, _“I’m here to shake things up. You know, add a little more chaos to this morally compromised world,” _he stated gleefully. _“And I’m starting with you… ”_

With those words blaring ominously in his head John awoke gasping uncontrollably as his cock erupted with the most intense orgasm of his life. _‘My God what in the hell was that!’ _he thought wildly as he tried to calm down. He tried like hell to get those inappropriate thoughts and images out of his head. He couldn’t let them take over. Harold was off limits; he couldn’t allow himself to feel those things knowing they’d never be reciprocated.

He got up and pulled the soiled sheets off the bed then took a shower to help erase the vividly upsetting dream.

*************

He was still trying to shake himself when he got to the library. Harold was already there, of course.

“Good morning, Mister Reese. We’ve received a new number…” Harold turned towards the board and taped a photo on the clear glass panel, “Meet Doctor Leland Townsend...”

THE END?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that I might possibly try to tie this POI/Evil crossover together once a week for a bit and see what happens. Thanks for taking the ride everybody!

When John saw the photo of the new number Harold taped on their board, his whole body stiffened; his knees went weak. It was like whiplash and all the CIA training he’d ever had didn’t prepare him for it.

The voice he’d heard, the face he’d seen only two short hours ago and who sounded exactly like his partner and looked so much like him it was uncanny, was now staring back at him from the clear glass panel.

“Mister Reese, what is it?” Harold asked alarmed, hurrying to help steer John towards a chair, “Here, sit down. Are you alright?” he bent over and looked at John anxiously, checking his pupils. He was scared to death that something health related was happening to him, something that maybe John had neglected to share with him yet or maybe didn’t know of himself.

John complied wordlessly, letting himself be led like a blind person, practically falling into Harold’s seat.

“Tell me what’s wrong with you, John.” Harold encouraged him frantically, utter concern immediately overriding all else. “Are you sick, are you hurt? Tell me what it is.” He prodded him again anxiously as John stared transfixed at the photograph. 

John finally found his voice, shaking himself from his stupor, “Finch… doesn’t he look familiar to you?" He asked uncertainly. Couldn’t Harold see that the man he’d put up bore a striking resemblance to himself? How could he _not_?

Harold quickly glanced at the photograph, then back at John, “Does he to you?” he replied, perplexed.

John tore his eyes away momentarily and forced himself out of the chair and back to the board to stare at the image once again.

Harold was becoming increasingly worried, “Who John?” he asked gently and walked beside him, “Who is he?” he asked as he studied the image as well.

Whoever this man was had obviously thrown John for a loop and he had no idea why. “Is he someone you knew in the past?" he asked hesitantly, watching his spooked partner staring holes in the picture. “John…?” he didn’t know what else to do to get his attention and knowing it might be risky, he reached towards his mesmerized partner cautiously, and touched his forearm.

John pulled away suddenly, throwing Harold’s balance off and causing him to stumble.

“Jesus, Finch!” John exclaimed and caught him before he could fall.

Harold looked at John in alarm while he composed himself, “Tell me what’s got you so upset, John,” he asked him anxiously. “Tell me who this man is to you…” he insisted.

John wasn’t sure what to say, how to answer Harold’s question. He couldn’t very well tell him that this man was just this morning at his apartment sexually assaulting him could he? And not only that, but it was perfectly okay with him that the man did those things to him because _he looks and sounds exactly like Finch _and in truth he’s wanted Harold in that way for quite some time now… he just couldn’t do that.

John took a deep breath and forced a calm he didn’t feel, “So, you don’t recognize him?” he asked evenly, “He doesn’t resemble _anyone_ you know?”

Harold looked at the photo one more time and shook his head, “Not one bit,” he replied resolutely. “Are you suggesting I should?”

John couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t understand how they were seeing two different individuals but he didn’t think Harold was pulling his leg… no, he was _sure_ that he wasn’t messing with him. “No, I guess not,” he answered sheepishly and tried to change the subject. “So what have we got on him?”

“Not so fast John,” Harold said. “Why did you have such an adverse reaction to this man? Be honest with me.”

John had to think fast, “I’m not sure, Finch. I guess I thought he was someone that I might have had an experience with at some point,” he lied slightly. “But now that I’m looking at him better I think I might be mistaken.”

Harold studied him for a long moment, “You’re sure that’s all there is to it?" he asked again doubtfully.

John smiled on the outside but was nervous as hell on the inside. “I’m sure Finch, now tell me what you know…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short lead-in to what comes next. I wanted to get something posted before tomorrow nights episode, I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Harold turned back towards the photo, deciding for the moment against pushing his unusually anxious partner any further about his reaction.

“Doctor Townsend is a forensic psychologist," Harold began, "You may be aware that in his line of work, he deals with a fair amount of court appearances. I suspect he may be in some sort of peril, possibly from the outcome of one of his recent testimonies.” Harold taped up another photo, a woman’s this time, “This is Fiona Plemons; she is this young man’s mother.” He taped a second photo next to the woman’s.

The photo of a young, bespectacled boy stared back. “Doctor Townsend testified yesterday that in his estimation, fifteen year old Adam Plemons was _not_ too young to be tried as an adult, citing his scores on a test he'd given him known as an MMPI-A questionnaire. The young man had evidently scored above average cognitive functioning, therefore reversing another psychologist’s opinion on the matter and putting him in the range for adult prosecution according to Doctor Townsend." Harold taped up another photo, "This is forensic psychologist Doctor Kristen Bouchard," he began, "she worked closely with young Adam and his mother before trial and was instrumental in keeping him out of the adult facility for his crime until now." 

“You think the mother might have it out for Townsend?" John asked skeptically. "Or are you suggesting the other shrink could be involved?"

“I can’t rule the mother out as of yet,” Harold replied, “and she did have a rather dramatic outburst at the courthouse… _but_ I also can’t rule out the other psychologist or even Townsend himself as the perpetrator either.”

“Come here. This is interesting.” Harold encouraged John to follow him back to his desk and powered on his computer monitors. “Take a look at this.”

“I found some footage of Townsend but something’s wrong with the audio, it’s garbled in everything I’ve pulled up so far.” Harold was puzzled by this and it was eating at him.

“Have you tried to…” John began but was cut-off immediately.

“I’ve tried _everything!” _Harold responded impatiently before catching himself, “Forgive me, Mister Reese,” he sat down and played John an example of what he was getting for a few seconds before stopping the distorted audio files, “I’ve utilized every test I can think of and come up with nothing clear enough to be understood.” 

John shook his head, “Well, I guess I’ll have to meet the good Doctor then,” he offered dryly. “Where’s his practice… does he take new patients?”

“I’ve already taken the initiative,” Harold smiled ironically and looked up at his partner, “your appointment is at three this afternoon.”

John forced a smile in return, feeling nothing but trepidation building in his gut, “I look forward to it,” he feigned as convincingly as he could.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another short one for now but I haven't given up yet!  
Thanks guy, writers block is a bitch as a lot of you know but Evil is very soon to be filming again so yay for that!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated.

John turned away from his partner’s regard, eager to direct the conversation away from his own unease, “Do we know where the boy and his mother are right now?”

Harold walked back to his desk and pulled up video feed, “Mrs. Plemons is with her son at the Atwood Juvenile Detention Center,” was the reply. “John, I really hope I’m wrong about her,” Harold said unhappily while watching mother and son sitting quietly together in a highly secured visitor area. “Young Adam lost his father last year when he was the victim of a drive by shooting inside their home.” Harold turned his chair to face John grimly, “They were very fortunate the whole family wasn’t hurt or killed. The police found several more bullet’s impacting three of four walls inside. Adam had to watch his father bleed to death… he held his hand while they waited for the ambulance to arrive, but they were far too late to help... in any regard.” 

John pursed his lips, seeing Harold’s eyes glisten behind his lenses, he knew there was more to their story and felt very much the same as his benevolent partner, “Where was the mother?”

“She was in the kitchen, making dinner for the four of them.”

“Four?” John asked.

Harold nodded, “The two year old was asleep in a playpen not ten feet away from the father when he was shot.”

“Jesus,” John replied unhappily. “Were they targeted?”

Harold closed his eyes and took a slow breath, “The perpetrators shot up the wrong house,” he sighed. “Adam, being a very clever young man got the information from someone on the street. He found out who pulled the trigger and went to confront the culprit. Things went south from there as you can imagine.”

John nodded with the realization, “He took things into his own hands and delivered his own brand of justice."

“Indeed,” Harold agreed. “But the thing is, the other forensic psychologist, Mrs. Bouchard, had already gotten Adam sentenced as a juvenile and sent to a facility before our Doctor Townsend got involved testifying to the contrary about the boy’s mental standing. I don’t understand how he had the ability or the authority to overturn the ruling.”

John stared at the photo of Harold…. _Townsend..._ and still couldn’t understand why his partner wasn’t seeing what was plain as day. He shook himself again, “Where are they as far as court proceedings?” John asked absently.

“The final date is set for next week. Hopefully we’ll be able to learn something before sentencing. You know how vitally important this may turn out to be for the young man,” Harold said emphatically.

“Yeah, hopefully I’ll find something out this afternoon at my appointment.”

He turned to see John schooling his expression but not before he saw the look on his face. “Has your memory returned? You still seem to be fixated on Townsend.”

“No, not yet,” John replied evenly. Walking toward Harold’s computer monitor, John tried to deflect his anxiety once again, “Show me one more time what you found on our number…”


	5. Chapter 5

“This piece of footage shows doctor Townsend interacting with a young man in a coffee shop.” Harold pulled up a short feed from two angles inside the establishment.

It began with this awkward young man asking a very pretty cashier out on a date. “It didn’t go well for him as you can see. But watch here, this is where the doctor gets involved.” Harold turned up the volume from inside the shop as the embarrassed young man walks toward the exit, passing Townsend but then turning back when Townsend says something to him.

The sound through the speakers went from the everyday coffee shop noise to a complete garbled mess.

“It’s only when Townsend and the young man are speaking that the sound goes haywire.” Harold paused the footage with pronounced irritation, “I don’t even have a good angle to do any lip reading either, so I have no idea what he says to the young man… it’s so frustrating!”

“That is pretty strange,” John readily agreed.

“Oh, that’s just the start of it.” Harold restarted the recording, “The conversation inside was short and the man turns and walks out of the shop with Townsend right on his heels. Now we have surveillance camera’s I’ve attempted to tap into on the street.” Harold pulled up three angles. “Here Townsend talks to the young man again and hands him what I assume is a business card. But here again, I have no audio and no viewpoints for lip reading. I can’t manage to glean a word from either one of them. It’s almost as if Townsend is consciously avoiding all the cameras in the area.”

“Huh,” John observed thoughtfully.

“As you see,” Harold continued intently, “Townsend speaks with the young man for a few moments in earnest then proceeds to saunter away from him, deliberately walking between two woman approaching him from the opposite direction.”

Harold looked up at his partner with an expression of bewilderment, “Mister Reese…,” he said solemnly, “every piece of footage I’ve found regarding Townsend… and there are many,” he pressed firmly, “I’ve come across the same problem. There’s not one instance I’ve been able to capture a word from this man…_anywhere_.”

John had never seen Harold so thoroughly bent out of shape about _anything_, “What about a scrambler?” he asked sympathetically.

Harold shook his head, “I’ve ruled that out as well as any other listening devices you can think of. It’s all a mystery and I don’t like it one bit. All I can do is keep trying, hopefully I’ll have some viable options after you meet with him this afternoon.”

Harold looked up at his partner, “How are you feeling now?” he asked concerned.

“Well,” John began self-consciously, “I didn’t sleep very well… maybe that’s the problem. I’m sorry about the weird vibes I’m giving off.”

“About that,” Harold replied, concerned, “I thought perhaps it could be something like that. You have a few hours before your appointment, why don’t you go back to the loft and try and get a little rest first?”

“I’m alright, Finch,” John dismissed the suggestion, “I’ll just go scope out his office building first, get an eye on some of his earlier patients.”

Harold raised an eyebrow, “I’d really rather you go home, John… clear your head awhile and rest, then perhaps your memory of where or how you know this man will come back.” Harold insisted, “Besides, I want to put some of those spy skills you’ve so graciously taught me to work,” he teased, “you know, break into his residence, see how he lives, plant a few bugs.”

John couldn’t help smirking at his partner. Harold always had a way of lightening his mood when he really needed it. “So, while I’m already going to be out… I’ll just, as you put it, ‘_scope out his office building and get eyes on some of his clients_." Harold grinned.

“Are you _trying_ to do my job, Harold?” John teased back, “I have to do something to earn my keep.”

“Trust me, John,” Harold looked him in the eyes, “I don’t know why, but I have a really strange feeling you’ll be earning your wages on this one.”

John smiled down at his extraordinary partner. A warm sensation flooded his system, Harold’s use of his proper name on his lips always managed to do that to him… ‘_If he only knew._’

“I trust you without question.” John replied sincerely and headed back to the loft. “I guess I’ll see you soon.” As much as he hated to admit it, Finch was probably right, a little more sleep couldn't hurt anything.

“Sweet dreams, Mister Reese,” Harold called after him.


	6. Chapter 6

John got home, let himself inside the loft and proceeded to the kitchen to get a bottle of water and a couple of aspirin. As much as he tried, what was running through his head was hard to ignore. _‘Am I imagining things?’_ he wondered, “_I_ _Have to be_.”

Yeah, the similarities between Harold and Townsend were striking but there were some obvious differences too, especially in their appearance. For one thing, their hair styles were completely different. He couldn’t imagine his partner ever letting his hair grow as long as Townsend’s wore his. Harold preferred the adorable stand on end spiky style on top and _always_ had it neatly cut and trimmed a good distance above his collar. He’d have to be in a coma before he’d ever let it get that length on top.

It was a little less crazy as he thought through more variances... Their way of talking was completely different. Harold’s speaking voice, his diction, is naturally precise and proper. He’d never talk the way the guy had to him that morning, using casual everyday verbiage. Then there was their movements. The guy had no physical deficiencies whatsoever as far as he could tell. And the clothing... The guy was wearing off the rack, casual business attire in stark contrast to Harold’s bespoke, finely tailored suits.

As far as he was concerned, no one stood a chance competing with Harold’s style. His exquisite elegance, the charming panache in the way he always matches his waistcoats, pocket squares, and ties. Every one of his suits are all uniquely and wonderfully… _Finch_.

John grinned, recalling one of his favorites. The dark brown suit with the dark shirt and waistcoat did wonders for him… especially with the burnt umber flair of the tie and pocket square. He felt heat rise in his face from the visual and shook his head, irritated with himself for letting his impure thoughts get the better of him.

Finally, he made his decision. If Harold didn’t notice how much they looked alike, maybe he was for some reason just convincing himself they did. They probably didn’t really favor each other that much and his wild imagination would just have to be put to rest, that was that.

His head hurt from thinking about the strangeness of it all. The best thing to do was to lay down, clear his mind, and try to get a short nap in before meeting back up with Harold before his appointment later.

The temperature in the loft was a little warm, so he didn’t bother to pull down the sheets before he pushed the button to close the blinds on his vast array of windows, positioned himself on top of the bed, and got comfortable. Taking a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes and intentionally didn’t think about anything for a while until he heard the same indistinct whisper of a sound he’d heard when he'd woken up earlier.

_“Just unwind and clear your mind of everything,”_ he told himself. But instead of his inner voice doing the talking, it was Harold’s voice. He wondered vaguely if it was always Harold’s voice he heard now since he started having feelings for him. He didn’t have a clue how long he laid there but he was still utterly relaxed when…

_“Don’t shoot me, John,”_ Harold's voice said softly, _“stay relaxed, I’m just checking on you. Make sure you’re going to be okay for later.”_ John smiled, never bothering to open his eyes.

“Mm, okay,” he slurred happily.

“_That’s good, just let yourself drift,_” Harold’s voice soothed him. “_You’re in very good hands. Now let me make you just a little more comfortable, you don’t have to do a thing, just lay there as you are_.”

'Yeah, I'm definitely dreaming,' he thought calmly as his dream self obeyed his inner Harold voice. 

“_Stop me if you don’t want this_,” Harold whispered hot against his ear. The warmth and tenor of his partner’s voice sent a shiver down John’s spine. He could feel the buttons of his shirt being undone. The visualization behind his eyes combined with the outward sensation of Harold stroking a warm hand down his chest made John want to melt into the bed with dream Harold on top of him. “_Just say the word John, and I won’t go any farther_.”

Again, warm hands were at his belt, undoing it and then his trousers, spreading them wide at the fly.

He felt a dip in the bed as _dream Harold_ sat beside him with a playful grin, wearing the same suit he’d just thought of so favorably what felt like moments ago. “_Am I overstepping my bounds?_” Dream Harold asked mischievously, “_I’m not him, this is just a dream, John, so you can have anything you’d like. Let me make you feel good without any guilt._” The voice said impishly.

John watched him under heavy eyelids lower his head and bend down effortlessly to kiss a trail down his chest to his abdomen, “_Tell me what you like_…” dream Harold whispered between kisses, “_Your boss will never hear a word from me…_” he paused raising his right hand, left hand over his heart, “_Scouts honor_.” He grinned before returning to his act of seduction.

John had no hesitation this time, he was so relaxed enjoying the idea of accepting by proxy what he would love to have from the real Harold. It was all a dream so there’s no guilt necessary… right?

“_That’s right John_… _no guilt_.” Dream Harold agreed, “_Now, let’s begin_,” he announced salaciously and released John’s rapidly hardening cock.

John closed his eyes, accepting the gift of dream Harold’s generosity, never wanting it to end as he continued his bountiful offerings of pleasure.

Townsend pulled off just long enough to gaze up at John with a smirk of triumph. “_A mind-fuck is just what the doctor ordered_…”


	7. Chapter 7

Harold had watched John leave, still concerned about the uncharacteristic episode concerning their new number and what his partner _wasn’t_ telling him. “I really wish I knew what that was about, Bear, don’t you?” he asked his four-legged team member. Bear sat up at from his doggie bed at full attention, “You don’t have any idea either, do you?” Bear whined and plopped back down to gnaw at a bone.

Harold pulled up the layout of Townsend’s residence, studying it and checking the camera feeds around his office. The doctor’s first client was due to meet with him in ten minutes. Once Harold was sure Townsend was going to be occupied, he would leave for their number’s apartment and plant two cameras inside and one just outside the entrance to the brownstone he owned.

“I guess the good doctors patients prefer to be early for their appointments,” Harold observed aloud, “well, this one does at least.” He watched a rather tall heavy set man with a full moustache and beard alternating continuously between looking at his watch and the door for any indication Townsend was going to let him in early or not. “It seems the doctors a stickler for adhering to the time his appointments are scheduled.”

Nine o’clock on the dot and Townsend’s first client for the day walked through the front doors. It was now his turn to get to work. He stood up to get going and Bear immediately sprang towards his leash, trotting back to Harold happily with it hanging from his mouth.

“No Bear, I’m sorry but I’m afraid you’re going to have to sit this one out.” He apologized, taking the leash and placing it on his desk. “When I get back, I’ll throw the ball for you.” He rubbed Bears ears vigorously, “How does that sound?” Bear barked enthusiastically, sealing the deal.

#

Harold parked his town car down the street from Townsend’s home and began walking towards it, while keeping a good eye on his surroundings. The area was nice, upscale and exclusive. As a matter of fact, Harold had owned a row of historic brownstones back in the day just three streets over, making a very nice profit when he’d sold. But nothing he’d found on Townsend indicated that the doctor made enough to afford such a place. He’d have to dig deeper to find out how he was able to do it.

The morning commuters had already made their way to whatever high-end jobs they had to have to live in such extravagant dwellings, so the street was practically empty. He made his way down the block, within visual distance of the doctor’s place, when he began to feel ill. He continued on his way, taking slow, deep breaths, attempting to ward off whatever this uncomfortable feeling this was.

Regardless of how nauseous he was, Harold was here and had a job to do. He walked up to the door, took another good look around, and pulled out his lock picking implements. Making quick work of it, he let himself inside and disabled the alarm system. 

The place was set up like a museum. He walked into the main room at the front of the residence and examined some of the offerings, among them a list of sigils of demons and occult practices going back centuries. His stomach was still giving him grief while he found himself being more and more curious about the many displays of eclectic, irreligious objects, and paraphernalia. He couldn’t figure it out. Either the doctor was into studying demonic history and relics, or he was a weirdo with an unhealthy fascination with Satan and all the demon represented.

Suddenly Harold found himself spiraling while his stomach clenched painfully. He latched on to a table to steady himself as the room whirled around him. ‘_Deep breaths_’ he told himself, panting into his handkerchief. ‘_What is happening?_’ He barely made it when he fell into a large chair nearby, squeezing his eyes shut to focus on not passing out.

As much as he wanted to look around more, he decided he’d better just place the cameras and take a few pictures then get out of there before possibly becoming incapacitated. He could study up on the images back at the library.

Tasks complete; Harold left the residence immediately, barely forestalling the inevitable retching he’d surely be doing had he stayed there any longer. When he got back to the car he took a long sip of water, his head finally feeling back to normal again_. ‘That was the oddest thing…’ _he thought as he drove back to the library.

#

Bear greeted him at the top of the stairs and Harold was extraordinarily happy to see him after what he’d just experienced. “You should have seen what I’ve seen.” He told the dog and rubbed his ears reassuringly then sat at his desk.

“Okay, what have we got,” Bear sat next to him waiting patiently for more attention as he began calling up the feeds, “I’m very interested to see…” the instant the camera’s from inside Townsend’s residence lit up his monitor, Harold was met with a terrifying, resonant scream in the system that made his blood run cold…


	8. Chapter 8

Harold cut the volume off quickly, and wondered what in the hell that godawful noise was. While rubbing the sides of his head trying to alleviate the residual twinge, he noticed even Bear had recoiled from the strident sound with his head hung low, he trotted back to his bed with a whimper.

“It’s alright, Bear, that won’t happen again.” He consoled the dog, “I don’t have any idea what that could have been.” He shook himself from the shock and decided to check the surveillance cameras around the doctor’s office.

Townsend’s next patient was due in a just few minutes. Once he saw that the man was going to make his appointment and Townsend would be occupied, he’d get a look at the many odd and curious possessions that were prominently displayed in the psychologist’s abode …_without_ the audio this time.

Harold watched the next patient arrive at the building and go through the office doors. “Right on time…” he remarked absently.

His earwig came to life and John’s soothing voice came through, “How’d you do this morning, Finch? Anything new on our number?”

“I’ll fill you in momentarily, Mister Reese, did you manage to get any rest?” he asked, noticing the time was just after one o’clock.

“Uh, yeah…” John cleared his voice. “I feel better, thanks. Now, tell me how this morning went at Townsend’s place.” John swallowed hard, a warm flush crept its way up in to his face. Another dream, even more vivid than the first was not something he would ever elaborate on with his partner… ever. But he did feel _really_ good right now and it was back to business.

“I performed my distasteful duty and broke in to Doctor Townsends residence and planted the necessary electronics in the two main rooms,” Harold began, “I did _not_, however, place anything upstairs unfortunately because I had a rather odd…” He didn’t know how to put it really, “well, I was suddenly hit with a wave of malaise and lightheadedness and couldn’t recover enough for more.”

“Are you alright now?” John interjected, concerned. For as long as he’s known his partner John had never seen Harold so much as sneeze.

“Yes, I’m fine. I deliberated whether or not to even mention the little episode but,” Harold never wanted John to worry about him on any account. The man had enough on his plate already, with all that he’s often required to do for the numbers the last thing he needed was someone else to worry about. “The strangest part was that as soon as I got out of his place I started feeling better.”

“Good,” John replied, and Harold continued, “Something else that’s odd but par for the course.” He watched the doctor’s previous ‘bearded’ patient leaving the office. “Let me guess,” John interjected, “Your sound is no good.”

“Indeed,” Harold sighed tiredly, “But I haven’t taken the time yet to see if I can do anything about it. Perhaps all is not lost quite yet.”

“Anything else?” John asked.

“Well, let me just say that our Mister Townsend’s tastes run in rather unique and strange directions.” Harold pulled up the feeds again in the residence, sans sound, and zoomed in on some of the occult paraphernalia. “He has a vast collection of some very interesting possessions.”

“I’m almost there, Harold, save it so you can show me in person,” John suggested. The erotic dream was still lingering and as guilty as he felt by indulging his _Harold_ fantasy, the sooner he get back to work the better.

“Very well,” Harold replied and zoomed in on a rather large parchment with a list of symbols and animal illustrations, “I can’t wait to see what you make of this stuff. You’ve got some time before you meet with our number, perhaps between the two of us we can get somewhat of an understanding of this man.”

“Sounds good, Finch. I’m entering the library now.”


	9. Chapter 9

John paused at the top of the stairs to see Harold focused on his monitors so much so that he didn’t realize he was standing there watching him.

There was so much he didn’t understand about the sudden erotically charged dreams he’d experienced. The one he’d had before coming in this morning was disconcerting enough, but added to that it seemed to involve their new number, who just so happened to be Finch’s doppelganger. It was a lot to take in.

He was becoming more and more confused. He didn’t know how he should feel letting the fantasy dictate and encourage what had happened to him sexually. His thoughts were of Harold, not Townsend, when the man was going down on him, pleasuring him so… adeptly.

Sure, it might have been a dream, but it didn’t stop him worrying whether it was acceptable or not. But now that he was completely conscious, the thought of letting himself indulge in a sex dream seemed to be a betrayal of Harold’s purely innocent, companionable relationship with him.

Suddenly, Harold spoke, startling him from his increasingly anxious thoughts. Evidently he’d been wrong about his partner being too distracted to know he was there.

“Ah, Mister Reese. I have something for you,” Harold began enthusiastically, “I’ve waited to give you this until I felt the _time_, pardon the pun, was right.” Harold pulled a box out of a drawer and handed it over with a satisfied smirk.

“I know you prefer to go without jewelry of any kind, including a timepiece, but if you’d just indulge me... I believe you might find this the exception to your partiality.”

John inspected the sporty Bell & Ross timepiece and certainly appreciated the quality and the craftsmanship. “This is a hundred thousand dollar watch,” he gaped.

“Mister Rooney is a wealthy man after all.” Harold added, “And I think the exceptional style represents the man very well.”

Harold took pleasure watching John’s face light up as he turned it over before finally putting it on his wrist, “I gotta admit,” John grinned, “I like your style.”

“Well, I do have a discriminating palette when it comes to fine accessories,” he grinned, “if I do say so myself. Now, let’s look over the feeds in Townsend’s home. I have some things I want to point out.”

“How does Townsend afford to live in a place like that?” John asked curiously as the cameras revealed just how large and extravagant the place was, “I’m sure he must make a good living, but that place has to be two, three mill, easy.”

“Try four point two.” Harold informed him.

“Jesus…” John remarked, “Did he inherit it or something?”

“I don’t think so,” Harold began, “He has no family whatsoever, at least from what I’ve been able to gather so far. But, I suppose it’s in the realm of possibilities.”

“Now, this is the most curious thing I’ve unearthed about the man as of now, take a look at some of the good doctor’s collection,” Harold zoomed in on a few of the demonic artifacts and parchments prominently displayed around the large room until he came upon an old, decrepit baby doll with a very disturbing look in its black eyes.

“What the fuck is that…?” John commented under his breath.

Harold looked at him pointedly, “Sorry about that, Finch,” he apologized meekly.

Harold chuckled, “Don’t worry about it, that was precisely my initial reaction as well.”

“She is rather terrifying isn’t she?” Harold remarked, “How do you know it’s a girl?” John leaned closer, not seeing anything indicating one way or the other and got a whiff of Harold’s cologne. He always loved the fact that Harold wore something subtle and that he really liked.

“I don’t really know for sure, it just seems female to me somehow.” Focusing in on more of the gruesome objects such as a group of preserved human fetuses, Harold shook his head, “I don’t enjoy looking at these morbid types of things,” he stated, “but I have to admit, it is _fascinating_.” 

“I can’t argue with you there,” John agreed. “But it’s too creepy for me.” John’s entire body shuddered with chills and Harold couldn’t help but laugh.

“Goodness, I apologize John, your reaction was just so cute.” Harold blushed, he really didn’t mean to say that out loud and it was now time to change the subject… quickly before John realized, “There’s so much to look at here,” he said, “it would take quite some time to inspect it all.”

“Well I think I know what you’ll be doing while I’m at my appointment with the hoarder of all this ominous stuff.” John looked at his new watch, “And it’s time to go now,” he announced, “I wouldn’t want to be late after all.”

Harold nodded, “John, I want you to be extremely attentive with this man,” Harold replied seriously. “I have a very strange feeling about him. Until we know whether he’s the victim or perpetrator I want to assume the latter.”

_‘You and me both,’_ John thought, “I think I can take him if he tries anything.” The instant the words left his mouth he regretted it. After what had happened so far today, he shouldn’t be making any claims about handling this man, he felt apprehensive about meeting with the doctor too for obvious reasons… at least to him anyway, “Don’t worry Harold, I’ll be careful.”

Harold pursed his lips and nodded, “Please do… and don’t forget, I’ll be on the other side of the com listening.”

John smiled and turned toward the stairs, sparing a moment for Bear. “Take care of him.” He rubbed the dog’s ears between his hands. “I’ll be back soon.”

Harold watched him go with an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Please, do be careful…” he murmured.


	10. Chapter 10

THE APPOINTMENT

“Mister Rooney,” Leland Townsend opened his office door and stuck his hand out while a smug grin played on his lips, “Please have a seat just there on the couch. It’s much more comfortable than the chair.” This was the man that had seduced him today… twice! _He’d swear to it._ John’s hackles were raised immediately.

John shook the proffered hand, sensing a tingling in his fingers when he pulled away and sat down where indicated. He adjusted his bespoke jacket and crossed his legs, much more casually than he felt. _‘Calm down John, be the professional you are for Christ’s sake.’_ He chastised himself irritably. Townsend sat across from him and John had a difficult time not staring at their number in the flesh. G_od he looked just like Finch_...

Townsend smiled at him in an almost predatory way, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “My, you seem familiar, have we met?” the psychologist asked, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“I don’t think so,” John replied with a forced calm, “though you do remind me of someone too now that you mention it.”

“Ah, well. Perhaps something will come to us at some point. Let’s dive right in, shall we?” Townsend picked up John's file and took a quick glance while John scanned his surroundings. Townsend’s tastes in décor were unimpressive, bland even with just one piece of artwork on one wall, but he was able to pick out two locations to place cameras later, when he came back after hours, and the tall plant in one corner of the room would be easy enough to place a bug in quickly before he left.

Harold was unusually quiet in his ear, he hoped nothing was wrong with their connection.

“I see here that you believe you have an issue with paranoia,” the doctor announced, finding John’s eyes and latching on mercilessly. “Now, who could you have picked that up from I wonder…?”

“You’re asking who as opposed to why or how?” John asked curiously.

“I’ve been doing this quite some time, John,” Townsend smiled charmingly, “May I call you John?” Not waiting for an answer he continued. “Like I said, I’ve done this long enough to know whether a particular patient would most likely be influenced by a person, and in this case a man I think, rather than a circumstance or event.”

“But we just met.” John countered.

“That may be true, but I have your initial evaluation here… and I trust my instincts.”

John’s internal alarm went off. This guy was way too sure of himself but he was going to have to let this thing play out and see what develops. If he could just hear Finch’s voice in his ear, if he could say something, _anything_ to him right now it would make him feel better, but he knew if he hadn't heard anything by now it wasn’t going to happen. His partner couldn’t communicate with him or probably hear him at all, he was on his own here with this unsettling character and he had face it alone.

“I can’t think of anybody that would have that kind influence on me,” John replied as innocently as he could.

_‘How could this guy have guessed about Finch?’ _

Townsend smiled at him pleasantly, “Maybe you’re a little nervous, John, it’s understandable. Your first time consulting a therapist and all. I would agree, it’s probably a bit daunting to a lot of people.”

“How did you know it was my first time?” John was feeling completely out of his element. The features of the psychologist were eerily reminiscent of Harold but his expressions didn’t look like his partner at all. It was so… odd.

“As I’ve already told you, I’ve been doing this a long time. It’s pretty obvious to me you’ve never opened yourself up to anyone like this before." Townsend continued to grin at him and John was getting creeped out.

“Well like I said,” John replied. “I can’t think of anyone that fits that bill,”

Townsend sat back and looked at the file in his lap, “I see here you’re an asset manager,” he said, “Could it be your boss that’s paranoid?” he grinned knowingly. “A lot of times people in a position of wealth and power can be _extremely_ paranoid. You may have unwittingly picked up some of his psychological traits.”

John took a breath, “He’s the least paranoid man I know...” he lied.

“I see, we’ll change tactics,” Townsend replied confidently. “Let’s get a little background shall we?” Townsend got up from his chair and placed a wedge at the end of the couch. Patting the cushion, he motioned for John to lay back against it.

When John just looked at him uncertainly the psychologist smiled and assured him, “Trust me, John… I _am_ a doctor after all.”

John complied hesitantly. He couldn’t figure a way out of doing what he was told under this circumstance without coming off as being difficult. He had to get this guy to think he was a really here for his help.

Townsend sat back down in his chair comfortably and crossed his legs, “Very good John,” he praised him. “Now,” he began, “Tell me about your dreams…”


	11. Chapter 11

“Damnit!” Harold declared impatiently. “Another problem with the comms.” Bear tuned in on his master’s frustration instantly, trotting over and sitting down next to him, always a calming presence at his side.

“I’m certainly glad I anticipated there could be an issue.” He stroked Bears head. “Let’s check John’s new watch and see if we can get audio that way.” He called up the microphone embedded inside John’s timepiece only to find that for some reason it wasn’t working either.

Sitting in front of his computer, he tried everything to get audio over John’s earwig again, tweaking and altering this and that and still coming up with nothing. He had a nagging feeling of unease eating away at him. He hated being in the dark while John was in the field.

He looked at Bear again, “There’s nothing we can do until John’s session is over, so let’s stop worrying about it, alright?” Harold fed Bear a doggie treat he found in his pocket and stroked his head before getting back to the little he did know about Townsend’s past.

The longer he was unsuccessful, the more anxious he was becoming, and he berated himself for still being unable to find anything useful on the doctor.

“There’s something decidedly strange about our number.” Bear whined in agreement. “And I don’t just mean his taste in hobbies.” _‘Perhaps the man carries a scrambler on him all the time,’ _he thought, “but I don’t know of anything with enough power to work the distances I’ve observed between the street camera’s, traffic light’s etc. and him personally." He looked over at Bear who had lost interest and gone back to his chew toy, “Then again…” he said aloud, “Nothing was as powerful as The Machine, until _I_ built it.

Let’s look into the doctor’s rather _eccentric_ interests a little closer, perhaps electronics expertise figures in at some point. Focusing in on a section of the psychologist’s home, he came upon what appeared to be a fairly large library of books regarding Black Magic the occult, Satanism, and a few other things he’d never even heard of. Harold was fascinated by some of the obscure volumes.

He zoomed in a stone tablet sitting behind a glass enclosure with the description, “BINDING TABLET” the tag read, _‘Inscribed Lead Tablet for use in Casting Spells. __Inscribed with a curse or related verse of black magic, they are then consecrated and dropped into a body of water__. __This last part involving the water (or some other entryway into the Underworld) is essential in order to ensure that the tablet gets into the hands of an underwater deity (or even the Devil himself) so that the curse written upon it can be activated.’_

Harold blinked at the monitor for a few moments, the subject matter was quite a bit more than he expected, “That’s rather disturbing,” he said soberly then looked at more of the items.

Some of the things were unusual to say the least, but just a short distance away from the strange, but on some level _ordinary_ things, he entered the realm of the grotesque and macabre. He came upon a mummified human hand grasping a candle, ‘The Hand of Glory’ the description said. “This is all too gruesome,” he grumbled, “I don’t like it at all.”

Harold took a deep breath and startled, his heart jumping out of his chest when he felt Bears cold nose in the palm of his hand, “John will be fine, Bear,” he professed hurriedly and absently wiped his wet hand on his pants, “He’s a highly skilled professional after all. He knows what he’s doing,” he stroked the dog’s head, “There’s nothing I’ve found as of yet to indicate the doctor is dangerous. Besides, the man doesn’t look very intimidating. I’m sure John could handle him without so much as lifting a finger if it came to that.”

He scanned more of the doctor’s displays and came to a complete halt when he saw the most frightening thing he could imagine. “Is that a… Voodoo doll?” he whispered, throat tight. A cold shiver ran through him when a ten or twelve inch male figure, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit and white dress shirt looked back at him. There was no mistaking who it represented. The effigy was clean shaven, short salt & pepper colored hair at the temples, “Oh my...” He looked at the time quickly, only ten short minutes before John’s appointment was supposed to come to an end, but to Harold… it was a lifetime.


End file.
